


to the man who caught the chair I accidentally kicked into the audience tonight: sorry. thank you. well done. #pleasedateme

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Absurdism, Acting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Eventual Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love at First Sight, M/M, Past Abuse, The Author Regrets Nothing, Theatre, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, and the fault of his theater shenanigans, or better at first play, this is all richard madden's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Theon goes to see his favorite play, which is also incidentally a very obscure one, and the miscast but excellent lead actor kicks a chair in his direction. If you told him that he'd score a date by grabbing a chair aimed at his head three months ago, he'd have laughed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the man who caught the chair I accidentally kicked into the audience tonight: sorry. thank you. well done. #pleasedateme

**Author's Note:**

> backstory: a while ago, Richard Madden goes and tweets THIS:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I immediately go like OH MY GOD IMAGINE YOUR OTP. Then I ended up discussing the details with tumblr user electricalice who will hopefully take the blame and merit for the play choice (it's Ionesco's _The Chairs_ , shut up Theon totally has weirdass theater tastes and likes absurdism also he'd love that play okay) because I was like god this is such a throbb thing. Then I didn't have time to write it but I was taking prompts on tumblr now and an anon wanted _Throbb based on that Richard Madden tweet about accidentally kicking a chair into the audience ;)_ and I caught my chance. Implied past theon/ramsay but it's relatively tame so I didn't sully my warnings with ramsay's name ops. For anyone who wants a basic summary of the play: an old man and an old woman live in a most probably post-apocalyptic world and wait for an oracle to come to their humble abode and share with them the answers to the meaning of life while welcoming imaginary important guests that sit on the aforementioned chairs. That's pretty much all you need to know. ;)
> 
> Also, this is fic number 200 I post to Ao3 and somehow the fact that it's throbb when this shit happens during a Ionesco play somehow seems fitting for my legacy.
> 
> Anyway: nothing belongs to me, the title is basically that tweet more or less reworked and yeah uh I'll just... leave this here.

Theon  _knows_  that Asha meant well. He knows that she _really_  did. What he doesn’t know is, if this is a good idea at all. He looks at the ticket in his hands and then at the playbill outside the small theater - the thing is that, while Asha _knows_  that _The Chairs_  is his favorite play in existence and so it was definitely, well, _sweet_  of her to buy him a ticket given that _no one_  ever stages it these days, she has no clue of what goes on in it.

Well, okay, _fine_ , not many people do given that Ionesco is hardly  _popular_  insofar as absurdist theater goes and theater in  _general_  goes, so he figures it’s not Asha’s fault that she had no clue that in order for it to work the two actors should be, well, at least older than fifty.

Except that this is a _drama school_  company, so it’s most probably students in their twenties and Theon’s fairly skeptical about people in their twenties selling a play about a couple pushing _a hundred_. Still, never mind that it was nice of his sister to even think about it so he’d kind of feel like an ass going back home - he knows that she pretty much threw the ticket in his face also because he has barely set foot out of the apartment since he showed up at her door with two black eyes and bruises all over his chest, and that wasn’t even half of it - shit, talking to Ramsay Bolton for the first time  _really_  was the dumbest thing he ever did in his entire life.

Anyway. It’s been a few months. He’s been doing somewhat more decently. He definitely put on some healthy weight. She probably decided that he needed to get over himself at least some, which - wasn’t entirely wrong. And given that she’s hardly caring and sharing, he can’t exactly sacrifice that on the altar of verisimilitude. Even if he likes his plays _somewhat_  plausible.

He shakes his head, adjusts his jacket and walks into the theater - at worst he’ll suffer in silence but it’s better than moping around Asha’s apartment and cooking food out of frustration.

The theater is fairly small - then again if it’s a drama school they probably can’t afford better, and it’s a minor play anyway, it’ll be a miracle if they fill the room. He looks at the flyer he was given at the entrance - there’s a small plot description, for what plot is there. Then there’s just the names of the actors. Robb Stark, Jeyne Westerling and Gendry Waters - the first two are the old couple, the other is the oracle. Okay then - he’ll just brace himself for the worst.

He takes his seat - it’s in the middle of the parterre, but then again it’s ten rows overall. In the next fifteen minutes, the room halfway fills up - some people _must_  be other students or relatives of the actors but at least it’s not empty. Thankfully no one ends up sitting next to him, good because he’d have rather not, and then the lights go out and he braces himself for the worst.

The curtain lifts. Well, the staging isn’t _bad_  - it’s obvious that they have no money to spare, but it’s tasteful. The chairs weren’t bought at Ikea, at least. And they _did_  go down on the post-apocalyptic theme - every piece of furniture is either broken or covered in dust or visibly _old_ , the doors are all with chipped wood and the window has broken glass. The director at least isn’t completely useless, Theon decides.

The lights go dark, then they turn on again and he finally sees the actors.

Well, he sees _her_  - she obviously has a grey wig on and the make-up doesn’t make her look that much older, but they tried. She’s also dressed in an old black dress with rips in the skirt that makes him feel claustrophobic just looking at it - okay, fine, the staging is good. _He_  is staring outside the window, so he can only see his back, but he also is wearing old ripped clothes.

“Come my darling, close the window. There’s a bad smell from that stagnant water, and besides the mosquitoes are coming in,” she says, apprehensively, and - okay. Not bad. She’s not _pretending_  to be older than she is anyway, which is probably for the better.

“Leave me alone!”

 _Okay_ , the man definitely has a nice voice. Theon won’t go and judge the acting on three words, but that sounded very pleasant to the ear.

“Come, come, my darling, come sit down. You shouldn’t lean out, you might fall into the water. You know what happened to Francois the first. You must be careful.”

Then he turns to look at her. “Still more examples from history! Sweetheart, I’m tired of French history. I want to see—the boats on the water making blots in the sunlight.”

And at _that_ , Theon’s stomach just does a flip, because wow, they tried to put on some unflattering make-up on the guy, but he’s just - really fucking attractive. Red hair even if they’re streaked in some fake grey, huge blue eyes, ginger stubble they didn’t bother to try and hide, and under those ripped clothes - well, he’s just very nicely built, all right? He absolutely _doesn’t_ have the right looks for the part, but damn if he can settle, he thinks, never mind that the way he said _sweetheart_  was a serious low blow to decency in general.

He swallows and leans back in his seat and lets them go on.

They’re… actually not bad. If he suspends disbelief enough, they’re _not bad at all_. They know their lines, they understood their setting and they definitely have a clue of what they’re doing, and fine, they don’t _look_  right, but who cares. He’s actually getting into it. Now if _Robb Stark_  manages to deliver right the parts that made this his actual favorite play when he read it the first time he’ll have to give it to Asha - it might have been a good idea.

“There was a path which led to a little square and in the center, a village church. ..Where was this village? Do you recall?” Robb Stark asks a few scenes later, looking at Jeyne with such _sadness_  in his eyes, Theon almost wants to cry himself.

“No, my darling, I’ve forgotten.”

“How did we reach it? Where is the road? This place was called Paris, I think…”

"Paris never existed, my little one.

"That city must have existed because it collapsed …It was the city of light, but it has been extinguished, extinguished, for four hundred thousand years. Nothing remains of it today, except a song.” He sounds like he’s about to _cry_  now. Wow. Theon is seriously impressed here.

He keeps on being impressed throughout the rest of it - they definitely don’t fuck it up, they can play off each other, he honestly has no clue of how _she_  manages to stay in character when he climbs over her lap as per stage directions while the chair she’s sitting on creaks audibly, and he doesn’t think once that he’s getting bored, which - is good. He had expected worse. A lot worse.

He just hopes they get through the invisible guests in the same way, but when they do - all right, they do manage. At least it doesn’t turn terribly farcical. It’s obvious that it’s harder than just playing off each other, but it’s still good enough and they do get into the swing of it by the time the second guest shows up.

Obviously, that’s where the old man has a fairly long speech. Which Robb Stark delivers _fine_ , indeed, except that it’s a bit obvious that he’s _very_  concentrated on not fucking it up.

He manages it, though. Up until he has to accidentally kick the chair where the other invisible guest should be sitting on.

“My husband never lies; it may be true that we are old, nevertheless we’re respectable,” Jeyne says, humbly.

“A hero must be a gentleman too, if he hopes to be a complete hero!” And that was said with the right amount of rage in it, Theon thinks.

“I’ve known you for many years, but I’d never have believed you were capable of this. I’d never have believed him capable of this. We have our dignity, our self-respect!” She sounds contrite enough, indeed.

“I’m still capable of bearing arms,” he says, still sounding angry as hell. Then the fake doorbell rings as it should and - “Excuse me, I must go to the door.”

Right. At that point he’s supposed to stumble over one of the chairs, except that obviously Robb Stark is _kind of_  wired up, and instead of stumbling he -

He kicks it.

 _Right into the audience_.

And the man has a mean kick or has to have seriously well-developed leg muscles, since it flies right _his_  way - and well, Theon hasn’t done archery for years and developed reflexes from nothing, which is why he stands up and grabs it before it can actually hit him in the face.

For a moment no one says a thing - he moves it to the side, looking at the stage. Robb Stark is looking crestfallen but relieved that he hasn’t thrown it in his _face_  at least, and about a moment from breaking character and asking him if he’s all right while most probably everyone else in the room is looking at them -

And Theon, strangely, _isn’t_  freaking out at all. Huh.

He shrugs and throws the chair right back on the stage - Robb Stark catches it at once. Then he can’t help it - he _does_  smirk a tiny bit before sitting back down, and maybe he should shut up, but -

“Hey, this is my favorite play and you’re doing good, how about you get on with it?” He asks before sitting down.

Stark sends him a fairly relieved smile before nodding and getting back into character, and at a fairly quick speed - _nice_.

From then on, Robb obviously cares _extra_  whenever he has to handle the damned things, but it doesn’t happen again and all in all they give a fairly damn good performance, up until the third guy walks on stage and they pretty much break down crying out of fake joy in front of him _for real_.

Maybe he kind of has to wipe at his eyes when they commit fake suicide - okay, okay, for being in drama school they’re good, nothing to say. He applauds when they come out and he actually _means_  it, and damn but it’s the first time in a year he’s had genuine fun and maybe he really should go thank Asha. He stays through all the curtain calls up until all three actors just get down from the stage to go talk to the relatives that had come to see them - a good half of the audience, as he had predicted. He grabs his jacket and stands up, and he’s about to leave, but then -

“Hey, wait!”

Theon turns and he’s face to face with Robb Stark in all his horribly old and torn costume glory, and now that he’s not in character he looks concerned all over again.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, didn’t hurt you before, did I? I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t even realize I was actually kicking it but I was over in my head and -”

“Hey, I caught it. No harm done. And I’m not going to sue you, no worries.”

“God, I was just - I thought I’d end up sending someone to the ER, you don’t even know how relieved I am. I hope you enjoyed the show at least, given that it’s, uh, your favorite?”

Theon can’t help smiling a bit at that. “You and your co-star are maybe a trifle too young for the part, but you’re good. And you actually staged it - I mean, it’s hardly a common choice.”

“No, but - well, it was basically our end-year play. I mean, the entire class was involved in it, we’re not that many, and the director is really into absurdism and they decided they wanted to stage something uncommon, so.”

“Well, nice taste. It was - good to see it in the flesh, really.”

“Thanks - god, I was terrified I’d fuck it up, it’s usually not my usual playground.”

“Why, what are you into?”

“Er, Greek tragedy mostly. Or reinterpretations of it. But it was nice to branch out.”

“Let me guess, you’re the to-go Orestes of the situation?”

“… How did you guess it?”

Theon can’t say _you look like you’re born to play that bloody role_ now, can he? “You have the right face for it, I suppose. Anyway, congrats to the director. You can give them my compliments.”

Robb’s brow furrows for a moment, and then he - _smiles_? What? Well, Theon has no clue what’s going on here but he looks even more darned attractive when he does that.

“How about I bring you backstage and you compliment her yourself? I mean, given that I almost threw a chair in your face, I think you deserve a few after show perks.”

“Really. _Perks_ , as in, more than one?”

Robb kind of blushes as red as his hair. “Well, let’s say - uhm, we always have cast drinks after a showing. If - if you want to join I’d be glad to buy you a beer or whatever it is you’d like? If you’re up for it. I mean, I owe you some apologies. Just if you want to, of course. I can assure you that we actually _do_  talk about plays most of the time and we’re ridiculous about it.”

Theon isn’t an idiot. He can recognize flirting. He also can recognize the offer for what it is.

He also really, _really_  likes Robb Stark, and he’s starting to think that almost getting hit with that chair was a stroke of luck.

“Just if I get a private performance of the old man’s final poem. The one about the two of them rotting together.”

“That’s _definitely_  the weirdest thing anyone’s ever asked me to act out for them,” Robb laughs.

“Why, what do they ask usually?”

“Parts from _Romeo and Juliet_. By now I kind of hate it. With that I meant, you totally have a deal as far as I’m concerned.”

Theon feels himself grinning without being able to stop it.

“Good, because I absolutely can’t wait to hear it.”

Robb flushes again at that before telling him to follow backstage, he’s going to change in a moment and then they can join the others.

Scratch it, Theon thinks, he’s going to thank Asha openly and without making it look as if he went to pay her a favor - she definitely deserves at least that.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you has suddenly developed a desire for reading the play in its entirety, you can find a pdf [here](http://www.strapazin.ch/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/1_Olivia_Plender_The_Chairs.pdf).
> 
> (Also, the part Theon wants Robb to recite goes like:
> 
>  _Above all I had hoped_  
>  that together we might lie  
> with all our bones together  
> within the selfsame skin  
> within the same sepulcre  
> and that the same worms  
> might share our old flesh  
> that we might rot together. . .  
> Alas! ...alas! ...  
> Our corpses will fall far from each other,  
> and we will rot in an aquatic solitude.  
> Don't pity us over much.
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone wanted to know. LISTEN THEON WOULD DIG THIS SHIT IMO. ;) )


End file.
